


King's Cross

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: >1500 words, Drabble, Gen, brainburp, no actual pairings, useless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:15:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel shows up with a message for Sam. He tries the whole "gentle angel" thing. It doesn't work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	King's Cross

**Author's Note:**

> Timestamp: Just after Bobby's death, during the whole Leviathan affair.

 

 

_"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?" (Albus Dumbledore, **Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows** )_

 

* * *

 

 

When Sam opened his eyes, it was to a light blue sky. He squinted at the sudden brightness, and then closed his eyes again. It was warm here, wherever _here_ was, and he was lying on...grass. Actual, honest-to-God _grass_ , all soft and good-smelling. A breeze flowed, gentle and temperate, over Sam's face.

He allowed himself to take a few deep breaths before spoiling this for himself--he was dreaming. Of course he was dreaming. Sam and Dean were holed up in some greasy motel room in Nowhere, Midwest, USA, and Bobby was dead, and they were chasing leads on things that wanted to, and probably could, _eat_ them. 

There was a rustle to his left. Sam bolted upright in the grass ( _monsters-that-invade- dreams-which-monsters-invade-dreams_ ), just as a familiar voice lilted toward him. "Just me, kiddo."

"T-Trickster?" Sam replied, bewildered.

The Trickster arched one eyebrow. It nearly disappeared into his hairline. " _Gabriel_?" he corrected, voice dripping condescension. "Lie back down, by all means. I'm not here to screw with you this time." Sam considered, you know, _not listening_ , but then a psychic hand was on his shoulder, pressing him back, and he went with it, hitting a pillow that was suddenly just _there_. "Okay, maybe a little," Gabriel amended.

Sam wanted to be angry, really, he did. But he was just...so _tired_ of being angry. This dream didn't seem to want to let him be pissed, at any rate, so he settled for mild annoyance. "You're dead," he managed, closing his eyes again, folding his arms under the pillow.

Gabriel scoffed above him. "Don't be ridiculous. You really think they could permanently kill off all this sheer awesomeness?"

Sam muttered something about Archangels and cockroaches, or possibly herpes. Gabriel studiously ignored him. For a few moments, there was silence. Just the sun, the warm weather, and the breeze. Sam breathed deeply again. "Where am I?"

"The day Bobby took you and Dean out to fly kites." A pause. "You were...six? Five? Just a sprout of the...se _quoia_ you'd become."

Another hush fell over the conversation, Gabriel going uncharacteristically _un_ -chatty. Sam, eventually, was the one to speak.

"Why are you here?"

Gabriel sighed, a _whoosh_ of air that was lost in the breeze. "I was sent, Sammy boy."

"By whom?"

Laughter, light and bubbly. Golden, like the sunlight. "By my boss. The man upstairs. The Big Kahuna in all His glory." Gabriel made a thoughtful noise. "Well, by Joshua, who was told by Him, who then--it's all a big, complicated mess. Very important, hush-hush angel stuff."

A huff of a laugh was surprised out of Sam by the long-winded answer, and a bit of weight was lifted off his chest. In his state, though, a little felt rather like a _lot_. He adjusted the position of his arms a bit, turning his head to look at Gabriel. The Archangel sat Indian-style, smiling faintly down at Sam. There was no mockery on his face, for once--just the calm he seemed to be radiating onto Sam. He turned his head back to facing the sky, closing his eyes again. 

There was a beat of stillness before Gabriel laid a hand on Sam's shoulder; Sam lifted an eyebrow without opening his eyes. "Sam."

"Hmm?"

The hand squeezed gently. "Sometimes, when we're needed--or when you're _really_ special--angels are sent simply to comfort. I'm kind of getting the feeling that both of the criteria apply to you, kiddo."

Sam opened his eyes, rolled them at the Archangel, and then shut them. "You can read my mind, you don't need me to...bare my heart, or what-the-hell-ever."

Gabriel withdrew his hand. " _Fine_ , you--" He muttered something that may or may not have been _ungrateful little shit_. "Let's cut the cheesy, _Heaven is for Real_ crap and just--I'll talk, and you listen, alright?" Ah. There was that condescension again. "My Father is going to tear me a new one over this..."

The smirk that spread over Sam's face was unholy. Gabriel swatted at his head halfheartedly, making an irritated little noise as Sam caught his hand, burying it in his hair. Gabriel took up stroking his fingers through Sam's hair almost nervously as he babbled. "You've been dragged through shit lately, Sammy, old boy. Believe me, I know. You've got a constant bad trip going and the closest thing you had to a dad just bit it, because my little brother--also dead, by the way--decided he wanted to be God and managed to piss off some serious mojo on both sides of the divide. And that...that sucks the big one." His hand slid out of Sam's hair and came to rest across his forehead. Sam's brow smoothed out under the warm pressure, where it had been furrowed in some frustrated feeling. 

"But," Gabriel continued. " _But_. I'm here to tell you..."

Sam turned his head into Gabriel's touch. "Yes?" he asked expectantly.

"That you need to _stop_ blaming yourself. Try some forgiveness. Because, newsflash, kiddo--God sent _me_ , specifically, to tell _you_ that He forgives you. Me? I'm kind of a big deal." Gabriel scooted himself closer to Sam's head and resumed his massage of Sam's scalp. "And if God's forgiven you, who are you not to forgive yourself?"

"I--"

"Aha! No _buts_ , my dear Goliath. Important Archangel here. I know what I'm talking about. My Dad may be a lot of things, but _gullible_ isn't one of 'em. And let me tell you, if you don't listen the first time, you're going to see me again. Over and over, until we're sick of each other, and you'll listen out of sheer, _utter_ exasperation. So save us both the pain, please." Gabriel's tone shifted into something more serious, with much more weight and gravity. He sounded, for once, like he could be a millennia-old Archangel, who had intervened in Biblical affairs and revealed a Holy Text and...all of it. 

"Sam, it really is a matter of just going back and realizing that none of it was your fault. Okay? None of it is on you."

Sam sat up, casting a confused glare at Gabriel. "But Dean--"

Gabriel made a face. "Oh, hon, Dean has a whole other set of issues. And he has-- _had_ \--an angel of his very own. And he has, well, you. You, constantly pushing at him to forgive himself. So do me a favor, kid, and take your own advice." Gabriel's honey-colored eyes were hot on Sam, an earnest expression painted over his face. "Just stop _hurting_ yourself, Sam." The Archangel looked.. _.sad_ , like the idea of Sam's pain _hurt_ him. It was that face, more than anything, that made Sam sigh and lie back on the ground, making a low noise of apprehension.

"Okay. I...I'll...try, I guess. Kinda sure it's a day-by-day thing."

"Journey of a thousand miles, kid."

Sam opened his eyes, staring up at the sky. The wind had slowed down a little. Another silence stretched out between them, in a gray area between tense and comfortable. Gabriel shifted, stretching out next to Sam, their shoulders touching. He stole half of Sam's pillow. 

"What will you do in the meantime?" Sam asked quietly. 

Gabriel chuckled softly. "Other than lie next to you like a lovestruck fangirl? I'll be around, Sam. I can't walk the Earth or anything, but I'm around." Sam made a disgusted noise.

"Don't you have more important crap to do? Like, Archangel stuff?"

"Yeah, hilarious. Whatever we're assigned is what we do. You holler, I come running. Whatever else I do is _none_ of your business."

"Holler?"

" _Pray_ , dumbass. You want me to show up in that big, bulbous noggin of yours and shoot the shit, just _pray_."

Sam was acutely aware of Gabriel's hand brushing his forehead again before he jolted awake in Nowhere, Midwest, USA.


End file.
